


happily ever after below the waist

by smallredboy



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Lampshade Hanging, M/M, Making Out, Sharing a Bed, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 17:24:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18348260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: House has to go to a medical conference with his team and well,someonefucked up while doing hotel room reservations.





	happily ever after below the waist

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this after binge-reading 100 pages of good omens so i tried to make my narration Funnie. dont know if i succeeded. 
> 
> for gen prompt bingo w the square 'humor' & trope bingo with the square 'sharing a bed'. 
> 
> enjoy!

House must be on a bad gay romcom. 

Because truly, there is no other explanation for this of all things happening to him.

He was just forced to go to a medical conference by Cuddy, with Wilson  _ not _ tagging along (the only thing that would've made it bearable, after all), but his fellows  _ were _ . Which would be terrible enough, with Chase and Cameron shagging in the room next to his and everything, and perhaps Foreman masturbating his loneliness away. Or something of the sort.

But  _ no _ , of course the world had to add more to this ridiculously personal kind of torture. Of course whoever of his fellows had to mess up their reservations, of course this had to happen to him.

Again, he's still looking around to find cameras like he's in the Truman show. That's the only conceivable explanation for this mess now.  

After a bit, he turns and stares at the man behind the counter of the hotel. Thick-rimmed glasses, a weary look to him, a huge bald spot. He surmises that he's the kind of man to blame all his issues on his wife or lack thereof, if that's the case.

House raps his cane against the perfectly clean floor. “What do you mean there's only two rooms?”

The man behind the counter turns and scans their bunch. Chase, with his overgrown blonde hair and his three day beard. Cameron, with her frustrated expression and her arms crossed. And then, Foreman, with a blank but exasperated look to him.

“And, let me repeat,” House continues, “The second room has  _ one _ bed. And we  _ can't change it _ ?”

The man gives him a tired smile. “Yes, I'm afraid so. One of you must've made a mistake when making your reservations.”

Chase shoves his hands in his pockets; House reminds himself to tell him off for being an idiot later.

House groans and limps away from the man and towards the elevator, his team following suit. Suddenly, he doesn't want to keep it for later any more.

“Chase,” he starts, “care to share with the class why you thought it'd be good for Foreman and I to share a room?”

Chase stops in his tracks, a deer in the headlights and his face turning pale. “I thought it'd have two beds,” he mumbles.

Cameron sighs and looks at House, who is still glaring at Chase. Chase pointedly avoids looking at anyone, his gaze fixated on the floor like there's something very interesting in the ceramic tiles.

“Well, House,” Foreman starts, with this defeated look to him, “I think you've got to grit and bear it. Sharing a bed with your employee won't kill you.”

_ It'll make me have sex with you, though, _ House’s mind provides.  _ It always does in all media. _

He almost doesn't say out loud, purely because he doesn't want Foreman's long tirade of denial and for Chase to look like he wants to have Foreman share a room with Cameron.

But then he thinks of the disaster that would cause, and so he says, “It'll make us  _ really _ sleep together, though.” He grins wide, and Cameron squeaks in undignified surprise. “If you know what I mean.”

Foreman gives him the same exasperated look of always. No tirade of denial, but Chase  _ does _ look like he wants to change rooms.

“We won't,” Foreman says, and Cameron gives him a sympathetic nod before they go off to their separate rooms. Dinner time is in about an hour.

House immediately lays down on his bed, groaning as he stretches and leaves his cane on the carpet floor. Foreman goes to the bathroom and shrugs his jacket off. He's wearing short sleeves.  _ Huh _ .

House spends the hour or so watching TV dejectedly as Foreman ostensibly refuses to go and sit next to him. Or lay down. The denial isn't coming in a tirade, but it's palpable as he sits down on the only seat, which seems pretty damn uncomfortable.

As soon as the time passes, Foreman stands. fixing his shirt. House looks at his arms. They're quite nice.

“I'll go eat dinner,” he says.

House stands without thinking twice about it, grimacing and grabbing his cane. “I know you'd jerk off your loneliness away if I wasn't in the same room as you,” he says as if it’s any excuse, “I'll go with you.”

Foreman cocks a brow. “Uh-huh.” Disbelief is all over his face.

When House settles down with his dinner, Foreman in front of him, he looks around to do his favorite activity of people-watching.

Cameron and Chase are a few tables away from them, both of them smiling lightly. But for some reason, Chase looks prideful, making big, unnecessary motions with his hands as he talks.

“So,” Foreman says, “if it's inevitable for us to have sex, I'll say this right away.”

House immediately is thrown back to their table, looking at Foreman intently, like he's got all the answers in the world. He props his hand against his chin.

“Do tell,” he urges him on.

“Sadly, you won't be able to fulfill your vaguely fetishistic fantasy—”

House cuts in, peeved at the mere notion of him fantasizing about Foreman (perhaps because he, in fact, has), “I don't—"

“I'm a bottom,” Foreman cuts back in.

House’s fork drops into his plate. He stares at it, and he can  _ feel _ Foreman's smug smile.

He looks back up when he's fully processed this information and takes a bite of his dinner.

His smile is a little too wide, and he knows someone is looking at him. Perhaps Chase— most likely Chase.

He props his hand against his chin again. “You’re going to be way more fun than I pictured,” he says. 

Foreman smiles a little too. 

* * *

House pulls Foreman in as soon as the door of their room is closed.

Foreman kisses fervently but yet somehow calmly, like he's done the whole  sleeping-with-your-boss thing hundreds of times before. House doubts it— apart from the whole car theft thing, it's set in stone that Foreman's entire person is based on being a man of principle.

Well, very dubious and shaky principle, considering he's holding into House as they make out, House's face twisting in pain from time to time, Foreman letting him explore his mouth hungrily.

“Y'know,” House starts as he pops the buttons of his own shirt open. Foreman starts nipping at his neck. “You might be the second best meal of tonight. That filet mignon was too damn good for you to compare.”

Foreman laughs. “For how long have you wanted to fuck me? Or have me fuck you, as the case probably is?”

House gives a noncommittal shrug, working at Foreman’s jeans. “Probably a year into you working for me. It wasn't immediate like with Cameron, or really quick like with Chase.”

Foreman hums and helps him pull his pants down. “You wanna sleep with all your employees. That’s quite whorish.”

Blush spreads through House's cheeks, as much as he'd like to deny it. “Maybe,” he agrees, laying down on the bed. Foreman looks at him, like he's a bit disappointed. He waves a hand around. “I can't exactly, you know.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he says. “You're a cripple and you need to get ridden. How sad.”

House rolls his eyes, kisses him again. Foreman lets himself be as he finishes stripping down.

* * *

 

The rest of the week involves, in rough order— Foreman's hickies mimetizing with his skin; the medical conference in question (featuring whiskey, one of Chase's enemies in med school, and House sharing his penchant for people-watching with Foreman); Chase's smug, blissed out look when he comes out of his room  with sex hair; Cameron's gasp when she notices Foreman's neck; and unforgettably, House making bottom jokes by the dozens.

Actually sharing a bed with Foreman, with no sex in the middle of the equation, is pretty nice.

Foreman is impossibly warm, biceps, triceps, all the -ceps and broad shoulders. He doesn't deny himself of trying to wrap his arms around House's middle, but House does deny himself of having Foreman's arms around him.

During that five-day trip they do wake up tangled together, though. The first night, House has his face buried on the crook of Foreman's neck. The second, they wake up spooning. The third, Foreman is holding him. The fourth, House wakes up with a hand on Foreman's arm.

The fifth, House says  _ fuck it _ and kisses him slow and lets him wrap his arms around him and fall asleep by his shoulder.

Chase's look when he notices Foreman purposefully brushing his hand against House's, purposefully pulling himself closer to their boss— it’s quite priceless. 

* * *

“You know, Foreman,” Chase starts a week after during lunch at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.

Foreman picks at his cafeteria lunch. He's not exactly hungry. “Yeah?”

“I did know there'd be only one bed in your room.”

Foreman’s fork falls to the floor with a loud thunk, and he leans down to pick it up. He looks at Chase with an unreadable expression in his face. “You're not  _ that _ smart.”

“Okay then, ask Cameron. Trust me, she wouldn't lie for something as petty as this.”

Foreman's face sours. He’s right— he's known Cameron long enough to know she's an avid truth-giver, unless death is involved. _Then_ she's an avid lie-maker.

Foreman remembers Chase's shocked look. He didn't expect it to be more than one night of sex. Well, neither did he.

“You  _ did _ plan it,” Foreman gives in, brows furrowed.  

Chase cackles, tipping his head back.

Foreman adds, “You didn't plan the whole more-than-one-night thing, though.”

He sobers up a little and nods hesitantly, as if admitting a huge defeat. “That  _ was _ completely unexpected.”

Foreman smiles and gives his lunch a bite. “It was completely unexpected for me, too.”


End file.
